


On-The-Job Training

by Wembley



Series: That Series Where I Made Weyoun A Hooker And It Started Out Lulzy But Then It Got All Dark And Shit [3]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Hurt, Other, Prostitution, Trauma, Whump, off-screen sexual violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-20
Updated: 2011-06-20
Packaged: 2017-10-20 14:11:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/213611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wembley/pseuds/Wembley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"Some of my training was..." He was quiet for a while. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. "Most unpleasant."</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	On-The-Job Training

**Author's Note:**

> Warning/Contains: Tonal shift. **Reference to off-screen non-con/rape and sexual violence.** Sexual trauma. Woobification. Triggery.
> 
> Notes: The [first part](http://archiveofourown.org/works/204343) ([LJ](http://wemblee.livejournal.com/636685.html)) was lulzy crackfic. The [second part](http://archiveofourown.org/works/206732) ([LJ](http://wemblee.livejournal.com/639537.html)) was more srs bzns. This is a prequel, and it's dark and fucked up. If the darkness fucks up the earlier parts for you, just think of this as a really fucked up AU.

"Founder." He was distressed to find that when his voice came out, it rasped. Most unbecoming. "It's an honor to be in your presence." He tried to incline his head, as was customary, bend a little at the waist. This was much harder to do when he could barely stand. Swaying on his feet a little, he stumbled. Then tried to make it seem as if he'd _meant_ to land on one knee. Which somehow made it all the more embarrassing.

She didn't seem to mind. She was a god, of course, used to his frailties. "Weyoun. How is your training progressing?"

He hesitated, averting his eyes. How to put this. "I... admit I didn't expect there would be this much..." He gave her a sidelong, cautious glance. "Pain."

Her expression didn't change. "From what I understand, intimacy between solids is messy, fraught, often pleasurable and, yes, sometimes quite painful, physically. And solids can be cruel, capricious creatures. You know that."

When she put it that way, he felt so dull. Which was as it should be. She was a god; she understood so much more. Looking down, he forced a smile, tried to make it as deferential as possible. "Yes, of course."

"You need to be prepared for that eventuality." She lifted her chin slightly. "Or are you unwilling to sacrifice your comfort for the good of the Dominion?"

He couldn't keep from looking up, horrified, then quickly looked away again. "No, no, of course not. I live to serve you, Founder. Your word is my law."

She nodded, with that not-quite-a-smile, and he felt a flood of relief. As she turned, he opened his mouth to speak. Hesitated again. "Founder--"

She turned, sounding just slightly impatient. "Yes?"

He stayed on one knee, eyes darting. "Am I... finished for today?"

She looked at him like he had lost his mind. "Of course not."

"Oh." He felt his throat constrict, making it hard to swallow.

Her voice gentled. "They'll let you know when you're done." She turned, leaving, the doors hissing shut.

Footsteps fell behind him. His throat constricted further.

***

From the first footfall into the room, he knew it was her. It was her, and he couldn't get up off the floor. Couldn't stand, couldn't sit, could barely move. Embarrassing. Inexcusable.

"Founder," he said, hoarsely, inclining his head just slightly, "it's an honor--"

He stopped as she held up a hand. Her voice was soft. "How are you feeling?"

Tell her it was wonderful. Tell her things were progressing smoothly. Tell her how much he'd learned. "Please." Oh, no. Where had that come from? "Please let me stop."

Her mouth became a flat line. She looked at the ground and sighed. "I worried that this... experiment with your model was unwise. An overreach."

"No!" He was different. He was new. He couldn't have that taken away. Taken away, what was he thinking? If he couldn't perform adequately, he'd be destroyed. "No, it's my pleasure to serve, in whatever way you desire. It's just--" He tried to laugh. It sounded quite awful. Somehow, it hurt.  "It's been a long day."

She smoothed a hand over his forehead, into his hair. He leaned into the touch. She so rarely ever touched him. "We've been hard on you today. Pushed you too much."

"I'll do whatever you ask. I've learned so much already." He stared up into her eyes. "I won't disappoint you." He glanced at the floor. "But if, once I'm out in the field, we could avoid assignments involving..." He looked back up at her. "Large groups?"

She caressed his hair again. "Certainly." Then stood. "Clean yourself. You're filthy."

Shakily, he managed to get to his feet, inclining his head. When he did, the room spun slightly. "Of course."

When she reached the door, she turned, as if in afterthought. "I'm very proud of you."

He beamed.

END

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave comments here or [here](http://wemblee.livejournal.com/650875.html).


End file.
